


pointless or essential

by stefonzolesky



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Gen, Trans Character, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 03:49:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13849464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stefonzolesky/pseuds/stefonzolesky
Summary: Bobby is used to the public eye, that’s not the problem. It’s just that he’s always been told that running against someone in politics subjects you to being torn apart, and while he doesn’t exactly know what it means, it doesn’t sound very nice





	pointless or essential

If Nick Newport Sr. was asked, he would say that his son is what he would call a “troubled kid.” Bobby doesn’t think that’s quite the right way to describe it, but he doesn’t have the vocabulary to correct him, so he just puts up with it. 

On his thirteenth birthday, he hacked off his hair with kitchen scissors. His brother Nick laughed at him and dragged him by his ear to show their father.

Bobby spent that night alone in the yacht, his knees to his chest. He never quite grasped the reason why his family made fun of him all his life.

 

Upon turning twenty, the Newport family has successfully erased all evidence of the little girl that Nick Newport entered in beauty pageants for years. Everyone forgets that she existed. Bobby is eternally thankful for this, obviously, but he shortly realizes that he’s used up all his favors and instead resorts to spending all the money that he gets from his dad to distract himself.

 

One night, he overhears his father talking to Jessica Wicks.

Bobby has never been a fan of Jessica. She always smells very strongly of three different types of perfume and hugs him a little too tightly, like she hopes that Bobby might choose her over his mom like his brother did. Bobby may not be the smartest crayon in the shed, but he would never fall for a trick like that.

“Are you sure this is the right thing to do?” Jessica’s voice is hushed.

There’s some rustling before Nick Sr. speaks up. “I don’t know, Jess,” He says. “I think the money will keep her off our back. If we don’t keep her out of the business, everything will fall over.”

Bobby realizes that they’re talking about him, and he feels like he’s been punched in the face. He locks himself in his room for a few hours, but Nick manages to lure him out with grilled cheese and Coca Cola.

“Dad was talking about giving you the company,” Nick says. There’s something weird about his tone, but Bobby can’t quite place it.

“Really?” Bobby speaks through a mouthful of grilled cheese. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” Nick drawls. He shifts in his seat. “That’s the thing. He said he was gonna give it to you just to get you off his back.”

Bobby swallows down his food and wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “What?”

“Yeah.” Nick laughs. “He says that he’s tired of you. You’ve never made him proud, and he wants you to stop bugging him, so he’s gonna promise you the company. Once he dies, of course.”

“No way,” Bobby mumbles. He takes a swig of his Coke. “Dad cares about me. He wouldn’t just give me the company so I leave him alone.”

“That’s what you’d think,” Nick tells him. “But that’s exactly what he’s doing.”

That’s when Bobby Newport decides that he needs to do something big. To prove to both his dad  _ and _ himself that he’s smart enough. He decides that he’s going to run for city council.

And it’s terrifying. Bobby is used to the public eye, that’s not the problem. It’s just that he’s always been told that running against someone in politics subjects you to being torn apart, and while he doesn’t exactly know what it means, it doesn’t sound very nice. And if something isn’t nice, it’s mean, and mean things always hurt.

 

It isn’t until his dad dies that Bobby Newport realizes the real reason he should have been running -- to make the world better. Maybe if the world was better, people wouldn’t be so mean all the time. He tells Leslie Knope this.

“There’s always gonna be mean people,” She says. “Just don’t be one of them, and the world will already be a better place.”

Leslie Knope is nice. She helps Bobby wash the ink off of his hands after he votes for her, and gives him pep talks when he’s upset, and she’s a good friend overall.

“I don’t know what Dad would want me to do,” He tells her one day, most of his attention on the farm outline he’s coloring in with crayons. “And Nick is mean, so I don’t want to ask him.”

Leslie sighs. “Don’t think about what your dad would want you to do. What do  _ you _ want to do?”

Bobby shrugs and colors so hard that his crayon breaks. He throws it down, frustrated. “I don’t  _ know.” _

Leslie takes this opportunity to pick up the pieces of the broken crayon. She stares at the halves for a second, like Bobby’s dad always used to stare at him while he tried to decide on how to punish him. Bobby shrinks back on instinct.

Then, Leslie holds up the two pieces. “Think of this crayon as your campaign. Or as your happiness. Or… whatever. You tried to run for city council--” She presses the two halves together so they seem whole again. “--it didn’t work.” She takes them apart. “But did running for city council really make you happy?”

Bobby takes the broken crayon from Leslie, absently putting it together and pulling it apart over and over again. “No,” He says decidedly.

“Instead of thinking about what will make your dad happy, think about how to make  _ you _ happy,” Leslie reasons. “Your dad is gone. There’s no changing that. But you can change what happens for  _ you.” _

Bobby… smiles. “You’re right, Leslie Knope!” He feels like a weight has been lifted off his chest. “Everything is just so much  _ fun, _ y’know? I shouldn’t worry about what my dead dad thinks.”

“That’s the spirit.” Leslie claps him on the shoulder. “I like your artwork.”

Bobby beams, mumbles something that resembles gratitude, and waves bye as she leaves. God, Leslie Knope is the coolest.


End file.
